Yes, Headmaster
by Kinkary
Summary: After the war, which Voldemort won, Hermione is at Hogwarts and receives a detention from the Headmaster. Eventually HG/V.
1. Detention

1I don't own these characters, I don't own anything but my laptop.

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"Surely, Miss Granger, you must either be fearless or foolish to continually disobey me."

Hermione flinched lightly when the voice cut through her. She looked up from Neville's essay, on which she had tried, in vain, to leave correction and comments. She really tried not to help, Neville even told, and begged, her not to, but how could she help it? Headmaster Voldemort was always so much crueller to the remaining Gryffindors who'd stood up to him in those first, shocking days and weeks.

"Sorry, professor," she said softly, looking hard at her own paper, hoping he would comment and leave it at that.

"No, Miss Granger, I don't think you are. Not yet. My office tonight at eight 'o' clock for detention. Tell your roommate not to wait up."

Hermione nodded and whispered, "Yes, sir," as he turned. His smiled was visible to the class, and even though she hadn't seen it, she'd certainly heard it.

So she'd come back at eight. He couldn't do much, right? He certainly wouldn't keep one of Harry Potter's best friends alive simply too kill her for a little good will towards others. Would he? Just to test her? To see if she was worth keeping around? That's how he'd decided who of the seventh years to keep originally.

A chill ran down Hermione's spine as memories of tears and blood and utter hopelessness came back. That first month was the hardest. He'd drawn everything out for so long.

And it's worked, she thought miserably, noone is willing to defy him.

The consequences were simply too great, and no one wanted to fight anymore. Without The-Boy-Who-Lived, it seemed as if no one felt anything could be done. The feeling had spread from the school to the rest of the wizarding world. Parents had begged and bribed for their children to come home, and those who got too bold were,

'No!'

Hermione shook her head and set to work, finishing up her essay to ensure she would have no homework between her current class period and her foreboding detention. She would go from SDA, Study of the Dark Arts, to her dorm in the north corridor of the fifth floor, tell Lavender about detention and ask her to have healing spells on hand for when she returned.

Or should Lavender bother?

Would she be returning to her dorm?

With a deep breath she rolled her parchment and shook the doubting thought from her mind. When he excused the class she picked her bag up and was one of the first out the door, the cold feel of his gaze on her back the entire time.

--

Hallooo!! I felt we all needed some more Hermione/Voldemort in our lives. There are so many great stories on here... that I'm waiting 'patiently' to be added too... So I figured I'd throw my two cents worth in.

Any critique is taken in stride and comments are welcome. Criticism is always appreciated, even if it's not entirely kind. It all helps my write more fluently. I have no beta, so I do all my own corrections (it's all my fault!).

I'm an attention whore. With no shame.


	2. The Past

1Thanks to everyone who reviewed and encouraged me to update! Sorry it took so long, I had half this chapter done, and then my flash drive decided to commit suicide. It's terribly exciting to get positive reviews from authors you look up to!

So, to clarify for anyone wondering, my chapters aren't going to be very consistent on length. Some will be longer, some shorter, but never more than a couple pages, because I abhor writing long chapters, I've no skill for it at all.

If anyone has any factual questions or comments, please ask or tell them!

Enjoy.

--

Hermione never failed to look for her ginger furred familiar when she pushed open the door to her room.

And disappointment never failed to well inside her chest when no half-kneazle brushed against her legs for attention, searching for a few pats and maybe a saucer of cream.

It had been an unimaginably crushing blow when her last confidant had been devoured by the Dark Lord's own familiar. That damned snake had been allowed to slither through the halls for three months before it attacked a professor, and now the beast could roam the halls only at night.

After her familiar's death, Hermione had taken great care in attempting to hex and curse the snake. She had managed to give it a few nasty cut, and had even turned it bright pink before anyone was accused. However, when two first years were severely punished for the acts, she had immediately quite attempting to avenge her loving pet. If Hermione's actions ended up causing others harm, especially the younger years, she would never be able to live with herself.

Hermione had no doubt that Voldemort knew that weakness in her. And however many times she reviewed the situation and came to the conclusion that no one could have logically or magically witnessed the acts, she never forgot that way he watched her the entire time the two boys shrieked before the entire school. He'd had some of the professors, Professors Malfoy, LeStrange, and Macnair throw random hexes at the boys until they fell unconscious.

That had been in February, and their cries always seemed to stand out in her nightmares, becoming almost as haunting as the cries that had left her sleep deprived since November.

But now it was mid April, and only two months were left of what the remaining portraits called the first year of the end of Hogwarts. All the portraits that were not somehow enchanted to never leave the walls had been taken down before the school year began, just as most of the ghosts were either banished or chained by curses to one corridor or room.

Hermione Granger now lived in a world where even the dead were under His control.

As Hermione tossed her bag to the foot of her bed and flopped unceremoniously onto her comforter, her mind began to wander. The feeling of dread that had pooled in her stomach slowly unknotted as she drifted to sleep on her bed, perhaps for the last time.

November 12, 1997

"Harry Potter... if you would be so kind," Voldemort hissed softly, his lips turning upward just slightly in a grimace of a smile.

Hermione instantly grabbed his hand and Ron began to stand, but both were given firm looks from the-boy-who-never-smiled-anymore. He squeezed Hermione's hand and pulled away, putting the hand on Ron's shoulder and pushing the ginger haired teen down as he stood.

"Don't stop." he said softly, leaving no question in his tone.

"Harry, please," Hermione whispered.

"Especially you, Hermione. Don't. Ever. Stop."

And then Harry turned away from his friends for the last time and walked towards Voldemort, who stood before the teachers table.

The seventh years watched from their table in the middle of the hall. Everyone had been confused when they'd arrived in September and five student tables were set in the great hall. Looking in the main doors, The seventh year table was in the middle, and to its left were Slytherin and Gryffindor, to its right Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. All seventh years would be grouped together at meals, but sorting would take place much the same. It was easier for Voldemort to see who might grow up to be a threat that way.

And so the entire school watched, most of the professors in anticipation, but all students grim. Even Draco Malfoy seemed grim that day.

And when Voldemort smiled almost serenely at the teenage would-be hero, every muscle in the Great Hall tensed. And with a soft murmured, the boy-who-lived lived no more.

The hall erupted then, and every seventh year leapt up. It was a short lived battle, and half the seventh years were dead in the aisles between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff in a matter of minutes. Even Slytherin's had been murdered in cold blood by the new staff.

The dead were disposed of carelessly, but a select band of students were all bound and on their knees in the space between the head table and the student tables. Ron, Neville, Parvati, Dean, Ginny, Hermione, a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that Hermione knew by sight, not name, and even three Slytherins who she never actually recalled seeing in her six previous years.

As the rest of the students were brought to order she felt such hate welling up within her that she knew, given the chance, that she would gladly and eagerly kill. And then, one by one, Voldemort had two of the Professors bring up the students that they had had to bind to stop.

First he brought forward the Hufflepuffs, and deemed two of them unthreatening enough to be released for further punishment. The last one, however, he used occlumency on and then smiled.

"A Hufflepuff with a mind as cunning as a Slitherin's, unfortunate you are so very weak. Avada Kedavra."

Hermione bit her lip against a cry of fury and loss, as the boy fell in a heap and was levitated away.

Then the Ravenclaws, all five of them kept alive. Next, the Slytherin's came before him, and only one was killed.

As his red gaze turned on the Gryffindors a thick silence hung over them.

And then Parvati was pulled forward, though Ginny tried to hold on to her with bound hands. Hermione knew that Parvati could be a great fighter, but faced with the dark lord the girl burst into tears, and had to bite her lip to keep it from quivering.

Voldemort smirked lightly. "A Gryffindor? This girl? Surely you must be joking. I have no use for some fool girl will illusions of a battle full of grandeur, who cannot even meet my gaze."

And Parvati only hiccupped slightly before a green flash made her go limp.

Dean was next, and he glared right up at Voldemort, though he had to clench his hands against a slight tremble.

"That's more like, it, boy. Show everyone how foolishly brave and reckless Gryffindors are. It's too bad you're a fool, such bravery becomes idiocy in the wrong hands."

Then there were only three Gryffindors left.

When Macnair reached for Ron the red-head appeared reached to attack, and Hermione silently prayed he could keep his cool... Merlin knew she couldn't keep calm if he began to fight again. However, LeStrange stopped him and reached instead for Neville. "Lets see how this one does. Remember how his parents screamed that night? The night dear Bella let us join her for the fun?"

At that Nevilles eyes hardened and he was tugged forward nd set on his knees before the dark lord.

Neville gazed up at the man with such a fury, that Hermione scarce could believe it was the same boy who'd been picked on all his school years. The sweet, unfortunate boy who always lost his toad, or got into a mess.

Now a teenage boy, almost a man, glared at the dark lord and only grimaced when Voldemort dug through his memories. When Voldemort blinked a speculative gaze was placed on Neville.

"This is surely not the chubby little brat who defied dear Bella at the Ministry in his fifth year. Such strong hate, and the desire to use that hate. Oh, you would do most anything to get your hands on Bella, wouldn't you, dear boy? What would you say if I offered her to you no Just what would you do?"

There was a drawn out silence, taught as a bowstring, but pulsing with an anxious undercurrent.

"I would never sink to your level," Neville finally said through a half clenched jaw. "Or hers."

Voldemort smirked. "We'll see, boy. It would truly be a waste to kill you, Macnair, send him with the others to... reinforce their understanding of the new school rules. And then," his red gaze slipped to the remaining bound students, "we'll see just how their leaders death affected this... I suppose you're not quite a trio now, are you?"

He grinned, and the grin was so maliciously pleased that it sent a shudder down Hermione's spine.

"We'll start with the boy."

--

Well? It took forever, but it was longer than the first...

Now, unfortunately, I feel a longer than three or four chapter story coming on.

I hope I've lived up to what everyone thought this chapter would be...

I just opened too many possibilities...

Of course, reviews keep me going ;)


	3. The Headmaster's Office

1DON'T KILL ME

Or it won't be updated, even monthly.

Which I fully apologize for, by the way.

Because I'm lame; and my muse left me for awhile.

So, I realize my plot has a few similarities to lots of other fics, but i mean no offense and am not trying to steal any ideas - I'm just trying to figure out what the bloody hell I'm trying to write; because I think something.. and then my character says something entirely different. It's kind of upsetting... but alas... how is one to control a Dark Lord or a Death Eater?

Well, here's the next chapter(finally), and thank you everyone for the fantabulous reviews that finally got me off my ass and on my laptop!

--

Hermione sat straight up in bed.

She dug in her pillowcase and pulled out a muggle stopwatch, the last Christmas present she'd ever received from her parents. They'd sent it to her just before they had tried to come and -

It was ten minutes until eight.

Hermione leapt from her bed and grabbed her school bag, hesitating. Where was Lavender? She had meant to tell her; how had she slept so long!?

Deciding it was worse to show up late for detention with the Dark Lord than to worry Lavender, Hermione hurried brushed through her tangles and left her room, the door shutting with a heavy click.

It was a cruel and sharp reminder of the past when Hermione headed towards the Headmaster's office. Voldemort had taken all the wonderful and curious trinkets off the walls, Merlin knew where they were now, and had put, in their place, a grouping of dark objects. Daggers used in ancient dark rituals, cursed books that ensnared the readers mind, enchanted mirrors that would show the darkest wishes of the viewer, jewelry that bestowed youth and beauty in exchange for the wearers soul, and objects she couldn't identify lined the walls. The bright candles and merrily crackling fireplace were replace with a suffocating darkness and a pit of ever burning embers.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione was pulled from her distressing thoughts into a more distressing reality as she turned to see Rudolphus Lestrange in the corridor that would take her the rest of the way to ehe Headmaster's office.

"Professor Lestrange. If you'll excuse me, I have to meet with the Headmaster."

As expected, he was taken aback, his facial features betraying the surprise he felt. And then his expression turned grim, and a smile twisted his lips.

"Very well.. Perhaps I'll catch you on your way back to you dormitory."

The threat was not lost on Hermione, who passed the man warily, and felt his eyes on her until she was before the gargoyle that would lead to the Headmasters office. Her gaze landed on the statue with mixed emotions. She felt a pang of sadness because so much had happened in the Headmaster's office, good and bad. Trying to push the rush of memories aside, and willing away the tightness of her throat, two words slipped out.

"Acid Pop."

She winced slightly then, both because the words were natural and had merely slipped out, and because she knew there was no way he'd kept the same password, therefore rendering her lost on what she should do next.

"Hermione Granger, Detention, Eight'o'clock," a painting of an elderly woman to the right said in a hushed tone. "That's your key to get in."

"Oh!" Hermione was startled by the paintings words. Most of the painting had been rendered mute by the Professors, and though the occasion portrait was too strong, Hermione didn't expect the Dark Lord to have one right by the entry to his office. "Er, thank you."

She repeated the words and the gargoyle twisted aside, revealing the winding staircase. Hermione thanked the elderly painting again and hastened to get inside, the gargoyle sliding shut with a thud behind her.

As she ascended the stairs she took deep breaths and clutched her bag tightly, making her knuckles go white. Know-it-all that she was, she couldn't begin to fathom what he had in store for her. Instantly her thoughts went to every defensive spell she knew.

But even if he attacked, and she managed to put up a shield, how could she get out of Hogwarts? And what would the others do? She still had Neville, Ginny, Luna - she couldn't just run off and abandon them!

It was with these worried, frantic thoughts in her mind that she raised a fist to knock, brought it back down until she was no longer trembling, and then knocked three times.

"Come in," the voice sounded rather distracted.

She entered and shut the door behind her, her eyes instantly drawn along the walls with a slight grimace. But then she saw the bookcase. That was new. Or not. It had been months since she was here last, almost four months since the parents banded together to foolish attack the school and try to rescue the children. Most surrendered because their children were used against them, but others just wouldn't stop until it was too late.

"Miss Granger, right on time. Come, take a seat."

"Yes, sir."

Hermione took the only seat across from him at the desk, her eyes still drawn to the bookcase. The tombs varied in size and appearance, tombs that looked a hundred years old beside smaller texts that appeared to be brand new.

"I am well aware, Miss Granger, that you have become the leader of your little band; those who still wish to defy me."

Hermione's eyes widened a little at the words, and his crimson gaze narrowed a bit as he continued.

"No, I do not believe you are stupid enough to be plotting any foolish heroics. However, I am aware that it is you most of the older years go to when frightened or anxious. I have known for quite some time that you get many midnight visitors looking for a shoulder to cry on and a restoration drought, which you have a large stock of in the tampon boxes hidden beneath the sink in your lavatory."

Her hands clenched on the chair. How could he possibly know all of that unless...

Unless he, or someone else, had been in her rooms, and had been watching the students come and go at night.

The Dark Lord smirked just slightly and leaned back, linking his fingers casually as he let thick silence reign for a full minute or so before speaking again.

"But I allow these visits, I allow the students the comfort of knowing someone is still strong, someone will never give in."

"Sir, I-"

He cut her off sharply, his red eyes boring into her own amber depths, "I know you will never give in, Hermione Jean Granger. Not with the death of Potter, not with the death of Weasley, and not even with the death of your parents!"

She winced, recoiling and pressing back slightly into her chair as his presence seemed to intensify and he leaned forward in his chair.

"I do not want them to give up. I want them to continue to look to you for guidance. But I will not abide you trying to do everything for all of them! I have had enough of reading an essay from a student I know deserves a failing grade, but encountering passing work! I will no longer tolerate students repeating, word for word, your answers in classes you are not in. And unless it stops I will be forced to act harshly and make examples of some of the fools blindly following you, just as those two first years did by attempting to hex my familiar!"

Hermione's stomach dropped and her chest tightened. The boys had seen her hex Nagini. They had tried to copy her. They probably told him they had seen her do it, and still he punished them for her actions.

Seeing how swiftly he moved from serenity to anger made Hermione pause. It was quite obvious that everything she'd tried to keep secret was anything but, and she was at an utter loss as to what she should do, or how she should respond.

He was scrutinizing her as much as she was him, and finally he sat back again.

"They may continue to see you, to speak to you, and you may continue to pinch stores from the potions cabinet on the third floor in order to make your healing droughts. But there will be consequences if you continue to rewrite essays and give answers, do you understand?"

She swallowed hard before nodding. "Yes, headmaster."

"Good. Now, as your punishment you will be sorting the books there on the bookcase by subject and date."

That was punishment?

"And do be careful, Miss Granger, some of those books are very... entrancing."

When the Dark Lord smiles one feels a small chill up the spine proportionate to how sickeningly pleased he looks..

Hermione felt an arctic blast.

And, suppressing a shudder, she moved warily to the bookcase.

--

Likey? I did. Sorta. Not really. I hate my writing.

But that's okay.

So... Rudolphus Lestrange... I've always had this idea of both Lestrange and Macnair as men similar to Lucius, but darker and more sinister, with no real restraint, who don't care if everyone knows they're bad, they're proud of it.

So he might be playing a role here.

So might Lucius, because I love him.

And potentially Macnair, because I might need him.

So... yes...

The fanfic gods call upon thee to review!


	4. Damned Girl

Voldemort watched the girl as she ran her fingers along the spine of an old tome. He smirked. She didn't realize it, but she'd had the book in her hand for nearly five entire minutes. She had made short work of pulling the books off of the shelves and sorting them, but when she'd begun to replace them in order, her progress had slowed exponentially.

He had been surprised by how long she'd lasted handling the books. Hell, most of his followers wouldn't have lasted that long. Not that many of them read.

Turning his attention back to the letters from Minister Snape, he looked over the sightings of rebels and who they had recently caught. No one of great importance, a few mudbloods publishing a magazine criticizing the ministry and calling for the rebels to gather forces and attack. Nothing much to worry about; there hadn't been word of a real threat since January, when the parents had come to the gates en mass, both wizard and muggle.

They had been dealt with without much trouble, most of them running home when their children were threatened. Others had not been lucky enough to receive mercy. He glanced up at the girl who had put the book in place but kept glancing anxiously towards it.

He had personally taken care of the foolish muggle man that had brought a gun to kill a wizard, but not before looking into the mans mind and seeing his daughter and wife. Voldemort had been impressed by Granger's silence when she saw her father laid out on the floor of the great hall, and when she'd found her mother, the girl began comforting the young boy beside her, who was grieving over a lost older brother.

Voldemort had watched as the girl stopped three younger students from attempting to attack any of the professors. She spoke to them, words he could not hear, but in moment they dropped their wands and clung to her like a lifeline.

And he'd decided to use her skill to his advantage.

"Headmaster," a timid voice called him back to the present.

He looked up at the girl and his eyes shot to the bookcase. Swiftly he stood and paced to the shelves, looking at them critically, reading each title while the girl fidgeted nervously behind him.

"Where is the last book?" he demanded, turning to her.

"That's just it, sir. I wasn't sure... where to put it. I couldn't date it with my wand."

His eyes narrowed. "You dated the others with your wand?"

"Yes," she nodded, holding up the tome in question, "but I couldn't perform any identifying spells on this one."

"Very well, Miss Granger. Leave it on my desk and return to your rooms. Take heed of what I told you tonight."

"Yes, Headmaster," she nodded, her bushy hair bouncing, and she headed swiftly for the door.

After she left he paced for a few moments before the fireplace, his red gaze fliting to the old book. Contained in that text was all the knowledge he'd needed to take over the wizarding world. Spells, potions, ancient rituals, everything he'd used in his rise to power when he was young and within the last few years.

With a large section in the middle of the book that he could not remove.

A section about him. From his days as an orphan to his last day at Hogwarts.

It was like the Old Fool had left one last cutting remark.

And damn, he hated that old mans curly, merry script; an exact opposite of his neat but blunt calligraphy.

Finally he sat at the old desk and pulled open a drawer with his left hand. He removed from the drawer a stack of student files. Lovegood, Weasley, Longbottoms, ah, Granger. He filed the other stacks back into the draw and open the plain folder holding information from each teacher about the Granger girl.

It had taken him too long to discover she had been hexing his familiar, and he had been unnerved when Rudolphus was the only one observant enough to report that other students were visiting her at night. What Lestrange was doing near the girls dorm at night perturbed him almost as much, however, since he had clearly informed the Professors that Granger was off-limits. They could have their little seventh year whores, but he would not have the girl coerced and then broken by some half-wit middle aged wizard.

Damn that cheery script!

_Miss Granger comes from a respectable muggle family, an only child with two married parents, both dentists. _

So? How was that relevant? Perhaps the old man finally realized his teeth were rotting out from all that blasted candy he ate!

_She has impressed every one of her teachers, including Professor Snape, who has, begrudgingly, admitted her intellect is well beyond her years. She asks questions a fifth year could not fathom._

_I have no doubt she will be a great asset to Harry as the children grow older. _

Voldemort smirked lightly, relishing the knowledge that, in the end, even Potter's best friends couldn't help him. It had been almost anticlimactic, killing the boy, but well worth it when he was able to sort the older students. It had been Lucius' idea, to kill Potter before the entire school, and from that Voldemort had shaped the next generation to enter the wizarding world.

_I do, however, worry about her inner turmoil. _

Finally, something useful.

_Miss Granger is a nurturer by nature. If she is not using her mind she is using her motherly tendencies. She is very nearly nanny-like in the way she looks over both Harry and young Mr. Weasley. And, like a mother hen, Hermione takes the well-being of many under her care, spreading herself thinly over the heartache and worry of others, while refusing to confront her own._

_Too many promising students have gone astray in life because they could not face their own emotions. And while I do not think Miss Granger would ever wish to become as unsympathetic as those who come to mind, I fear she could lose herself to easily in the labyrinth she is building around herself._

Voldemort snapped the folder shut. Why was it, whenever that conniving old man had a plan or a scheme up his sleeve, he was pointing out students faults and then comparing them to Voldemorts?

Shoving the file back into the drawer, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He was easily irritable lately, for a reason he did not know, and could not fathom. At the height of his power, ruling over everything he once dreamed of, controlling the vast majority of the wizarding world...

It was that damned girl.

Her damned selfless ways.

Her damned caring nature.

Her damned frizzy hair.

Her damned control.

He opened his eyes and sat straighter.

That was it. He needed to brake her, just a bit. Just enough so that she knew he was the only one with power enough to control others. He would not let the others see, he would not tell anyone - except Severus. Severus could have knowledge of the girls younger years the old man did not. And it could prove priceless. He didn't care if that other seventh year... Benn? Bennet? Brown, that was her name - he didn't care if she knew. In fact - she could prove most useful, if what Lucius had told him earlier was true.

Who would've known Granger's roommate would chose a more carnal punishment than mere hexes or curses.

Granger would never let one of his followers use her in such a fashion. /He/ would never allow that.

But a healthy threat could benefit him most suitably.

... looks incredibly ashamed and doesn't even bother trying to apologize

So - you guys basically rock.

After... quite a while of no hope, I still receive reviews and people are still adding this story to their favourites. I love you guys!

Oh snap, Lavenders been bad. Three guesses what professor she's being punished by?

More on Hermione in the next chapter. I make no promises - for I wont keep them - except that there /will/ be a next chapter.


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